


(it was never an option to be) on the verge of losing you again

by kurojiri



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Canonical Character Death, First War with Voldemort, Gryffindor & Slytherin Inter-House Friendships, Happy Ending, M/M, Marauders, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Second Chances, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-28 18:18:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19399732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurojiri/pseuds/kurojiri
Summary: He had been granted a second chance, and Remus supposed—no, he believed that he would right their wrongs.





	(it was never an option to be) on the verge of losing you again

For some time, Remus had firmly believed that he could find self-peace. That somewhere—somehow, he would be able to light up his magic without being touched by his own self-loath as it colored up his magic. It had been wistful thinking. He could admit that—could comprehend that when it all led to the corridors where they were left empty and bleak. Strangely the beginning cups of summer made it for a lonely stroll as the season rolled in. A kind that left him boneless and his skin turning into a slime when his clothes touched him when he had to change from his pajamas to his uniform or muggle outfits he had packed beforehand. It eventually led for his parents to become worried for him. That had included his friends as well when he felt out of place with himself and the rest of the company he had within the universe.

But Remus Lupin had also felt like something had not been right within himself. (For a long time, if he had to admit that to himself.)

Like a misty goo that had been forming and coating his magic without his consent. He hadn’t like it. Hadn’t wanted them to see him losing control of his magic. Being a werewolf had been a sentence he knew all too well. And he had never blamed his father for the sins Remus had to carry for him. He had seen their sad expressions long enough to know that he couldn’t hate him. He instead, loved his father dearly. As much as he could when the summer weather was capturing his strength he needed at the nights when it came closer to a full moon.

June had been a very awkward affair when their finals had been acting on most of his free days and hours. The Gryffindor tower especially when Remus wanted a quiet room. His fifth year had gone as well as one could when he was Remus Lupin, a normally tolerable Prefect and usually agreeable bloke if other houses had any words about him. But recently, his memories were starting to mesh in an incoherent fashion. They resemble tossed scrolls where the parchment was aged and crumpled. Practically forgotten and laid in a corner where nobody would see or acknowledge its existence.

He knew that his friends had all noticed the change within his mind, within his whole body as his magic was running through his veins the way his blood didn’t want to.

It had hurt to watch them be so young, untouched by what the future would bring to them. And it had broken another part of his heart when he woke up to that scene. With an old worn blanket that his mother had gifted him for his Hogwarts adventures in his first year. To be back on the same bed that used to be his all those years ago and have within reach the same lumpy pillow he often kept when he needed something else than the softer one he usually rested on when he needed that kind of support for his head when he couldn’t sleep. The very magic of his roommates—of a younger (and innocent) Peter, a breathing James and— _Merlin_! Sirius’ humming magic that was a feet meters away from him had been the very tipping point for stray tears to fall from his cheeks.

It had all been an emotionally draining experience for him to cover his mouth as he bit his tongue in fear of letting any of his misery blaze into the room. A quick silencing charm had done the trick, and with the covers still holding him prisoner and sanctuary Remus had remembered how long he had cried that morning. He did end up boxing himself in an empty corridor.

Where he used to always go when he had been a boy.

(Though technically speaking, he was one right now, his body at least had been younger and uncoordinated.)

It still hadn't stop the fact that he was alone now. With all the memories still pressing onto his lips to all the way under his aching heart. The images of a dying Sirius and of Harry losing more of his composure and sanity since the resurrection of the war had signaled for a new stream of tragedies to never dull its effectiveness. It had been rightfully destructive as it had been promised years ago from the papers and whispers he heard before.

The clock had rewinded though.

Not by his hand. Not by any other sensible mortal either. Yet, it still had touched him. Chose—made Remus its victim as he woke up towards the end of his fifth year at Hogwarts. It hadn’t made sense when he changed into his uniform or when he had played the rest of the day on default.

By the end of the day and weeks he knew that he couldn’t be the boy they all knew. His eyes had said it all; he was haunted by the future-present he lived. Had been corrupted by the reality of his punishment and sins from his previous turn in the foreseeable future. He couldn’t protect them completely and for eternity. And he knew that it had been a horrible choice for fate to pick him for this precise journey.

( _But hadn’t it been better that it had not chosen Harry or someone else's equally young and innocent_?)

A damaged and aged soul was better than children who had been forced to pick up the war his generation couldn’t.

Even if his friends were children themselves in this time frame. The war wouldn’t technically start running its full course until they would be (young) adults; nonetheless, Remus Lupin would still do his best to curb the war efforts.

He had to.

Because he didn’t know what he would do if he failed to correct his wrongs on the second chance he had been given.

* * *

It had seemed that when the finals were over and Remus had been able to breathe properly that the full moon had been the very stage where he hated to mount on. He had forgotten how attentive his friends had been then. With his meat intake increasing and his magic roaring in agitation when he lost some of himself-control from his over-sensitivity as the full moon tended to uncoil him. It had been an absolute pain given that the very nature of puberty had still been inking on his moods. Peter, no matter what the future had foretold had been that type of boy that had sharp eyes to know when Remus grew weak.

Friend or foe, Peter’s talents were often left under the rug where people would underestimate his efficiency to control a situation. It had been why it had been explainable that Peter would—could grow up to be a spy and had been able to live for long as he did in his timeline. A cunning wizard, very resourceful. (And it had sometimes made him wonder if Peter had not wanted to be in Gryffindor would he had been able to pick between Ravenclaw or Slytherin.

His survival rate and incentives had leered to Slytherin, but that did not mean he couldn’t use his need for knowledge and creativity to defeat his enemies any less than many of the Ravenclaws he knew before.)

Either way, it had been Peter who noticed Remus’ pale skin as his magic rinsed off his pores as he hobbled around the grassy terrain before he wedged to the clearing where the line of the forbidden forest laid. His own voice had called out to him making Remus wonder when had it all changed; when _had_ Peter actually noticed his own inferiorities as a means to disillusion his brotherhood that he had with the rest of the marauders. Remus would never explicitly know as he had never had a moment to laminate it with his own version of the Peter that had grown up. The pain then, and maybe still now, had been a recurring theme in his life. There had been a wall between them.

The war, the very second one with Voldemort had said it all that he would never be able to reach or understand that version.

For that prospect, Remus had been on the edge when he saw this younger version. He saw all that could go wrong. What could poison his second attempt if his resolve softened. Yet. It had also made the core of being a Gryffindor that expanded on his soul; he wanted to see what his changes could do. If not for restoring a light that Peter could have retained if they had not shunned out his insecurities earlier. Love after all, between them all had been what helped Remus find years and seconds to not drown himself from the misery that followed him since he had been marked.

Not that it all had been easy to remain intact. Peter and his inclusion for seeing Remus turning into a sad puddle had been why he felt so frail. He wanted to help him. Wanted to erase his old mistakes. And when he had years of being shunned and working to live day to day before he had gotten a few teaching jobs, Remus saw that Peter needed them too. They were all broken men in his time, but that didn’t mean that he would accept for it to happen again when Peter followed him into the forbidden forest. Not when he looked so eager and earnest to help out a friend.

These people, the ones he knew of one ending all deserved better building blocks for their own chapters in life.

* * *

Oddly, Lily had been the next person that came about his defenses. Honestly, Remus shouldn’t have been all that surprised, the woman—young lady currently now, had always been the one to steer their conversations. To calculate and execute a road for him to always feel safe to talk with her. As if she were a lake that summoned all living creatures to a place to find comfort and peace. Her own inclusion had been a soft and quite frankly, a suffering blow when he watched her fan her presence during their common room.

They weren’t at the part where she was with James, but the seeds had been planted there. Where their banters were growing less spiteful and James was starting to own up to the consequences of his actions (but not to the point when and where the war had changed everyone). It had been tamed in comparison.

With Remus, their friendship had been going like the early summer showers were known for. His clumsy limbs that he carried offered him as it run where Lily would help him with his courses. (There he had to stop himself from speaking about new additions of information that hadn’t been discovered yet.) Her own voice and magic had soothed him when he couldn’t bear to look at James or Sirius.

That pair had been coming and going from his time in school. In swells that he couldn’t ever remember from his own first experience in Hogwarts. And that, that had made him suspicious that things could or already had been changing since he woken up back into the past.

It hadn't been like he said anything to them—to Lily, but when she caught his thinking it all came back to it. Him huffing in his theories while Lily using his own brand of comfort words against him in a trial for him to calm down. That was how it worked then.

And still did when Peter came into the second empty chair by his left. The rolled-up homework and titles of books had been harmless to a stranger’s view, but for Remus, well, he knew what could come if Peter and Lily worked out what had been bugging him.

That combo had on numerous occasions made Remus homesick of how easy it all had been before the first war.

* * *

He had never been a fan of Severus Snape. Not from his own past, nor when they worked together in Hogwarts or the Order of Phoenix. Both men were just two completely different people with their shite of backgrounds muddying up their connections with their own circles. Yes, he had tried to be honest with himself and give a chance for them to wipe clean their distrust during the second war, but Severus was the type to hold grudges. He preferred for his hatred to fester like wine grew tastier with age. That had only leaned for Remus to be in an unequal footing when he used to converse with the Order, and mainly to avoid Severus then.

When he came back in the past, however, he saw how his own actions of never sitting down Sirius and James had only intensified the bad blood between all of them. Lily and Severus had been good friends. Remus had always known better, but as teenagers—as children too, they all should have been mindful about their actions.

He knew better now too.

Not that he had spoken to Severus about it yet. He saw him in the hallways either with other Slytherins by himself or alongside with Lily as they went over homework. The novelty of it all never worn off completely when he saw Peter had followed the script to a tee of helping James tease Severus whenever he felt like he needed to pull off some steam. And Sirius—

Well.

That had been quite a story all together when Remus clashed into the scene of Sirius opening his mouth against Malfoy and other future death eaters during their off hours. Not that it had compared to the image of Sirius' younger brother, Regulus Black (who had died in a mysterious circumstance back in the early days of the first war, if Remus could recall those details with some clarity).

The sight of the same dark black hair, same grey eyes and the green tie had been ingrained in Remus' dreams when Sirius talked about him. With the posing danger there and having known how heartbroken his friend had been the first time made Remus impulsive with his daydreams of saving the younger Black. If only to alleviate some sorrows that the world had felt during the first war.

The countdown of the summer holidays had rang true to its word when he had packed his belongings. That itself had felt so odd now; given that he had to uproot himself again and go back to a life where his parents were living currently and being treated as a minor again in their eyes. Where he would undoubtedly be alone with his own thoughts as his soul still had clumps from his future and his present colliding. Going back there would unquestionably make him see the ghosts of when the first war had trashed his own home that he was taken to after he had gotten bitten. The reclusive nature of it all with the classic isolation that Remus had lulled himself to, and by crossing his mother’s hugs and his father’s pats, he could say that at one half of his soul he wanted to go back there to see his old treasures of misplaced books and pebbles he kept by color or size, as many eight-year olds did. And then, another to escape into the Potter Manor to engulf into the sight of James and Sirius laughing and working up a storm for their pranks for the next year.

It had been a tough choice.

Considering that Dumbledore and the rest of the Order from the previous past had been combing their numbers now in the shadows.

But it all seemed to add to the fact that Remus did choose to go back to his cottage home. Where he had hugged both his parents while they were still breathing. Damn it if he cared to seem so lost for a man his age, he would do his best to convince them to make a trip across the pond, after all, they had fewer restricting laws against magical creatures and those who had been cursed like himself over there.

He would persuade them, if only to make them to stay safe while the war was picking up.

* * *

It hadn’t been like he meant to jinx himself.

He had learned a great deal from before to never wish or stay unprepared under any circumstances; for being a marauder, and having been an adult for a few decades, Remus should have seen it all boil down to Sirius ruining everything in a fashion that made sense. He had been walking through Diagon Alley with money from his parents. The July population had been thin for an early morning. Not that it would stay like that for long. They, the early crowd would be joined soon by children wanting to check out the quidditch store or the ice cream parlor. As well, for the steadiness of what the summer holidays gathered shoppers and tourists alike did during summer.

It had included the people that had lived to support and waste their youths in Diagon Alley as it had made a fusion to continuously enjoy the stores. James was one of those people, who had made it a tradition to gather them all together since after their first year had glued them.

Even when they were growing closer to being adults, James and Sirius were notorious for being so childishly idiotic as they had loved to create any kind of chaos. (And Remus couldn’t deny that he had loved how their carefree grins had soften his heart on many occasions when it needed a boost of morale.) But when he had walked through Remus had been shocked to see Sirius alone. His hair had been tucked in from the cloak he wore. The clothes from what he'd been able to see were muggle made. However, it had been the serious expression that he had put on that made Remus take a second glance. He'd only looked like that when the tone was too dark, when he had thought about his family—to then, when both the wars had raided his mind and took most of his happy memories. It had not been what he wanted to relive. To see someone like Sirius to suffer again by both his allies and enemies.

He took off to the direction Sirius had been walking towards. The Gryffindor knew how horribly ill-timed it was to recklessly follow his friend. But when he had seen the direction he was aiming for; Remus couldn’t stay still. He had to do something. Anything to afford that Sirius didn’t kill himself earlier than before. He had made sure for his friend to hear him running to his side, to prepare himself to have Remus’ hands to tremble as he asked him plainly what he had been thinking of accomplishing by walking into Knockturn Alley.

His own terror didn’t click for Sirius until he had him so close, to feel how his magic was summoning itself into a loud ball of angry mist.

_“Sirius.”_

_“Oh, Moony. I_ knew _it.”_

* * *

It had been a shallow intake for the silence to fully immerse him. For his magic to call and cry as the separation from his past and future ripping into shreds he couldn’t identify. He had remembered how Sirius— ( _his Sirius_!) had held him. How his eyes didn’t leave any traces of tears, but how they watered when Remus had wanted to pull away. His own magic spiraled further away from them, bursting into harsh shades of sorrow, happiness, confusion and hope. The anger he thought that would have surfaced didn’t make itself known until they found themselves into a room where Sirius had been renting from the Leaky Cauldron. Where in the privacy that it could allow him to vent made it come back alive.

The flashes of hexes and curses flying. Of Harry screaming and Remus trying— desperately and in vain, holding back his own sobs as he felt his own heart being ripped away by every single cell that no amount of magic could reattach it without showcasing its scars from that day—from that very moment. Sirius of course saw that.

Him falling apart because they were both adults and children at the same time. Their memories, their bodies all of it, had accomplished so much and so little. In that regard he wondered where they could go onward. If there was a chance that this was the universe’s way of telling Remus that it would be okay. Because he had him back. His best friend. His goddamn idiot that always held a special place in his heart.

No matter the time or predicament that overcame Remus’ reality Sirius Black had quite often been the reason why he never felt like he had been forsaken. James, Peter and Lily all had helped too but there had always been something that diverged there, that there had been something far stronger that surged into his happiness and paranoia to keep his sanity into a tight ball.

It was then when Remus had reawakened the pure agony of regret that he always felt since he found himself to be a Hogwarts student again that his face had turned into a shade of red, where his eyes burned as his throat went sore. And Sirius, he had waited for his turn, where he had wondered for how much longer did, Remus remain by his godson’s side when compared to him.

That had been hard to go over. With the months and years that passed since then. But it hadn’t been like Sirius to shy away from his death, to now living as the recently disowned son again. His grey eyes and tight smile had said so when his warm hands cradled Remus’ face. To tender and far too surreal when the window was shut in and the fire place was lit.

They didn’t talk about the future for long. Or when Sirius had come back. Instead they talked about the lighter events that had rippled inside their second lives so far.

That had been what eased them into relearning about themselves as summer worn on.

* * *

Unlike what he usually allowed to sweep into his bones, Remus had to admit that he hated how useless he felt when Sirius and James became too obsessed with their little games within Hogwarts. Growing up, no matter the era, had often trickled into smaller waves. Always washing off the progress Remus made if he didn’t stay diligent. And he couldn’t blame them for being childish, the climate had granted them the means for wanting to fantasize a form of escapism that could deliver a temporary happy ending within the world's current hellish appearance.

Anything that could make the newspapers seem like old history. Or that homework was all they had to be scared of when the tests and quizzes kept them on their toes. The detentions, the pranks—they all came up for a reason. Peter had been included too when his nerves shot up. Lily had been better at it with her own group of acquaintances and friends. Her own trail went with her discussions or the way she lent her time for him. Neither could run away from the reality of it. They just weren't built for that.

Remus just couldn’t stop the way the universe was built. Seeing that humanity was a very undeserving selfish creation as it poisoned the rest of the inhabitants.

He hated it all.

All the nerve wrecking shocks that riddled from all sides of his body were blamed on the fact that Sirius was a gut-wrenchingly stubborn and reckless prat. He had often understood why Lily had delivered a steel glare when James did something stupid. Peter, poor sod had often been in the middle as he treaded quietly when James and Sirius made things complicated. They couldn’t do anything simple. Couldn’t go a day without coloring the air with their mischief; and while he adored them, Remus needed a break. Anything to promise him that the childness that used to mark him would come back and offer him some condolences when he woke up each day and wondered when would anything stay complete.

But at least, he could say that he wasn’t as confused, and as isolated from before. In a way that made sense, Sirius had a way of working with him at the same time of reeling back his pranks. They both had cooled off James and Peter when Severus came up, or when Regulus made his appearances during meals.

That had been the sobering effect that came with the territory. His journal entries that he used to jot down became consisted of off commentary that resembled what most first year uni students underwent during time changes and with only an hour of sleep on a good night. His liquid pen, thankfully never died on him when he sketched out a timeline.

On the right side it read what his memories knew, and the left, what had been manageable and marginal changes that had materialized.

For instance, Lily and Servers maintained their friendship. That had been due to him spending more time with them and Sirius keeping his tongue in check as a means to get Regulus to speak to him. Oh, Sirius hadn’t liked being friendly with the git, but when he remembered how awful it could be, he had listened to Remus. James and Peter were of course baffled but when Lily came into the picture (for James’ hopeless crush and for Peter to not alienate himself in the process) they eventually came to the agreement to hush their biting words. It hadn’t been easy; throughout their whole sixth year it had been a tug-a-war.

Of Sirius biting his cheek, for James to compete against Severus during their fast round studying sessions and Remus and Lily being the mediators of the whole group.

Somewhere along the path Severus threw them a bone for them and had persuaded Regulus to hear Sirius out. And that had given rise for few people to understand that a little elbow grease towards inter-house relationships were still a favorable option when given the right to bloom. It hadn't been perfect, but considering where they had used to be, Remus and Sirius saw an opening.

With their hands clasped together when they strolled through corridors far more blatantly and finally airing all their old regrets it all came back with Sirius giving him a chaste kiss. An answer that had been long overdue; but always appreciated.

Nothing had been truly fixed into them changing the tides of the war until their seventh year when Regulus gave them the first clue and definite solution that they could use. The Slytherin locket had been the first step once they learned about what exactly made that object a dangerous new game to play. The horcrux hunt had been the downfall of Voldemort. In two years, they found all the objects and had ended the war.

There had been casualties within the triumph of seeing Voldemort die. Yet when James and Lily lived after Halloween of 1981 with Harry and when Alice and Frank were able to raise Neville like they should have in their first lifetimes, Sirius and Remus cried at the cuteness overload of seeing both baby versions of Harry and Neville in their play dates. There was also the fact that he saw a breathing and very happy Regulus visiting them in their shared apartment that it signified that they were now in a chapter of a brighter future.

He knew Sirius knew too when he spun him during their first dance as husbands. With their families and friends all around them. Watching and embracing the future they all worked for.

They had done it.

(And he knew that the universe had been grateful too as his magic hummed in harmony with the earth and Sirius’ heart.)


End file.
